


Everyone Is So Unlike You

by chewysugar



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bottom Sam, Condoms, Cuddling, Dean Has Issues, Declarations Of Love, Established Relationship, Impala Sex, Kissing, M/M, Orgasms, Referenced Blow Jobs, Sam Has Issues, Showers, Supportive Sam, Top Dean, Wincest - Freeform, motel sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 19:00:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18349760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chewysugar/pseuds/chewysugar
Summary: Sam hates to break it to Dean, but sleeping with your brother is screwed up. Doesn’t mean they still don’t love each other for real.





	Everyone Is So Unlike You

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been writing SPN fic for eleven years. I thought I’d run out of fresh ideas, but apparently not.

Dean emptied his balls into the lubricated cocoon of the condom with a growl and a shudder. Below him, Sam arched like a bow, pressing himself closer to his brother. His own slick length kneaded against Dean’s abdomen, slick and sensitive. 

“Fu-uu-uu-ck,” Sam groaned. A million stars burst behind his eyes; bliss blinded him for a scant few seconds. Dean’s arms, braced either side of Sam’s head, trembled with the force of his orgasm. Through the veil of pleasure, Sam brushed his thumb over the sensitive head of his cock.

Hot streams of seed laced his stomach. He bit his lip, savoring the carnal heat for as long as he possibly could.

Because it wouldn’t last. It never did. Even though this dance had been going on for months now, the steps never changed.

Dean was out in a breath’s span—out of Sam’s body, out of the bed—all in one swift movement. He walked to the en suite bathroom; Sam heard the slick sound of latex peeling from skin as his brother peeled the filled rubber from his dick.

Dean kept the bathroom door open. He turned the shower on, but stopped in front of the toilet to take a piss.

Ordinarily, Sam would roll over and feign sleep until sleep actually claimed him. Never mind that the sheets were soaked with sweat and semen. Better to sleep off the lack of afterglow than do something as inane as getting up.

Tonight, though, the bodily evidence made his skin crawl.

He kicked the blankets off and made for the bathroom. Dean had flushed, and climbed into the shower. But shower curtains made poor brick walls, and Sam wasn’t in the mood for putting up with bullshit tonight.

One hand braced on the wall, he took a much-needed leak. Dean wouldn’t come out of the shower knowing that Sam was in the room with him. Which, Sam thought as he hit the lever on the toilet, was precisely how Dean wanted it to be.

“You’re going to run out of hot water soon,” Sam said.

“Shouldn’t you be going to sleep?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “I’m not tired.”

“Good for you.”

For want of a wrecking ball, Sam ripped the shower curtain aside.

Dean started. Son of a bitch even went so far as to cover his junk.

Sam screwed his face up. “Seriously?”

“It’s an instinct.” Dean let his hands fall. Suds cling to the grooves of his abs and sluiced down his pubes.

“We’ve gotta talk about it.” Sam tried to make his voice definitive without changing pitch. God forbid this turned into an argument, not that it would. To make a fight out of it would be to actually admit it, and Dean would smash Baby’s windows in before bringing this thing to the light.

He didn’t disappoint, either.

“No, we don’t.”

Sam’s nostrils flared. “Dean...”

”Sam.”

To his credit, Dean had started to go a little red—redder than hot water would merit. Sam always found it odd that Dean talked up sexual prowess so much, and yet could be so innocent when having to discuss it. Then again, that didn’t exactly make him different from most men.

Dean bent his head, eyes on the floor of the shower. Water cascaded down his head. If he wanted to drown out sound, he’d succeed. The rush of water so close to Dean’s ears would make a barrier beyond the one he’d tried to build with the shower curtain.

Now that he’d gotten a fraction of momentum, Sam wasn’t about to let it go. There had been too many nights when Dean had gotten his way—tonight wouldn’t be one of them.

Sam stepped into the shower. Dean went tense, but didn’t make any effort to push away beyond a whispered, “Sammy, please.”

But the Sammy that would please had reached his limit.

Sam flipped the tables from the bedplay. It was his turn to cage Dean in with both arms either side of him; his turn to press as close to the back of his brother as possible. Shivers raced up Dean’s spine, but he relaxed into the nearness.

“We have to,” Sam said, his voice a hoarse whisper. “I’m over the coda, Dean. You keep running off to whatever shower is at hand until I bore myself to sleep. Think I don’t notice that? Or in the car? You’ve got the excuse of having to keep both eyes on the road. I always have to be the one left with the remains—left in bed covered in cum, or looking out the passenger side pretending like I didn’t just take your load down my throat.”

Dean shook his head. “Don’t—

“No.” Even to Sam, the tenor had too much of their old man in it. He’d heard it enough times growing up not to make a perfect mimic, but he still didn’t like it.

Dean finally looked round. Dad’s voice had hardwired obedience into his brain more than Sam’s. Even if the tone wasn’t an exact imitation, the intent certainly remained the same.

Water ran down Dean’s face like rain. Sam could see the brightness for what it truly was, though. Dean wouldn’t cry in front of him, but he was damn near close to breaking.

Sam took the sides of Dean’s face in his hands. He didn’t want him to hurt—he never did. But Dean couldn’t see that in avoiding, pain could flourish. Something festered until eventually it turned into a disease. This—whatever they wanted to call it—couldn’t become fetid. It meant too much.

“We’re sleeping together, Dean.”

Dean’s body shook, and he tried to look away. Sam didn’t let go, nor did he redouble his grip. He had height and strength on Dean, after all. They both knew who’d win in a fight.

“We’re brothers,” Sam said, making his breathing as even as he could, “and we are having sex.”

“Oh, is that what that was back there?” Dean tried to crack a smile. “I thought we were just doing yoga.”

Sam sighed, reached behind Dean, and shut the water off. He stepped out of the tub, and grabbed the two fluffy white towels from the rack. Dean didn’t object to being towelled off, although Sam suspected it had something to do with his taking any delay he could.

With towels around their waists, Sam lead Dean by the wrist back into the suite. He shut the lights off behind them, plunging them into near darkness. Faint neon blue from the distant motel sign glowed through the minuscule gaps in the shuttered blinds.

“Do you feel better?” Sam asked as he sat Dean down on the end of the bed.

“Mmm,” Dean grunted.

Sam knelt down at Dean’s feet; Dean shifted, but still remained resolute.

“It’s not right,” Sam said, looking into what he could see of Dean’s face in the darkness. “I know that; and you know that. We’re not young and confused by special feelings. What we’re doing...it’s sinful.”

“I know that,” Dean said. He buried his face in his hand. “Christ, how long have we been—y’know...”

“Say it, bigshot. You know what it is.”

“Alright. Fine.” Dean inhaled sharply. “Making love.”

Sam’s snort went full laugh a quarter of the way out of his mouth. He felt Dean bristle; he tried to shift away, but Sam prevented any escape by placing his hands over Dean’s knees.

“Sorry,” he said. “It’s just...making love is kind of a fluffy term for you.”

“It’s important,” Dean said. “For me, anyway. To separate this from anything else.”

Sam cocked his head to the side.

“Why?”

Dean’s eyes glinted like slicks of pure oil in the darkness. He stared hard at Sam, who felt off his feet for the first time since gaining the upper hand that night. If it only took the cover of shadows for Dean to be so open, Sam ought to have done this a long time ago. Then again, it would have been so like Dean to make himself scarce in the only environment he’d have felt comfortable for the sake of circumventing any kind of resolution.

“Fucking is what porn stars do,” Dean said. “It’s what couples do when it doesn’t mean a goddamn thing. Fucking is what I did with all my old hookups.”

“And this?”

Dean sighed. When next he spoke, he sounded so utterly vulnerable that Sam couldn’t help but lay his head on Dean’s lap.

“It’s wrong, right?” Dean said.

Too comfortable where he currently rested, Sam gave a quick nod. Dean’s fingers threaded through his hair—he’d never done that before. The significance gave Sam a sense of peace, even if he wasn’t sure how this would all unravel.

“But the thing is,” Dean went on, “I don’t care. Like, not as much as I should. I should be sick about it. I should be putting as much distance between us as possible, or, y’know...beating myself up over it more.”

Sam frowned, and looked up. Dean had his eyes on the blind-covered window. The stubborn set of his chin told Sam that Dean was trying to keep his emotions at bay as much as possible. But Dean never seemed to realize that feeling everything heart-deep made Dean Winchester be Dean Winchester.

It was what made Sam, well...love him.

“You mean you haven’t been beating yourself up?” Sam asked.

“No. The showers, the silent treatment...it’s not that, Sammy.”

“Then what?”

“I guess I just thought I could play pretend.” He looked down at Sam once more; Sam saw the glint of a smile, and it made his heart soar. “Y’know...act like nothing had happened in the hopes that it wasn’t.”

Sam sat up, crawled into the bed, and put an arm around Dean’s shoulder. Dean leaned into the support, his chest rising and falling as if breathing were the only thing keeping him on the level.

“Then why keep coming back? Why not just put an end to it?”

“You’re a grown ass man,” Dean said with a soft chuckle. “Coulda made me stop any time.”

Sam swatted Dean gently on his bicep. “Please. I’m the one who cornered you tonight, remember?”

“Show me yours if I show you mine?”

Sam nodded. He could do compromise. It wasn’t as if either of them had anything to lose at this point.

“I want you, you big dope,” Dean said. “You’re all I’ve got left in the world, Sam. Everything else I try to hold onto keeps burning away. But you’re the constant. However this got started—whoever made the first move—I don’t care anymore. I’ve got you in this way that’s all for me—for us. And nothing else is ever going to feel the same. Feel right.”

Sam knew how much it cost Dean to be so raw. What lay under that cotton white towel didn’t hold a damn candle to how helpless he was letting himself appear now.

He tightened his arm around Dean, needing him to know that it was all okay—even if it wasn’t right, even if it was illegal and immoral, it was still fucking theirs to the very last inch.

“My turn?” Sam asked for rhetoric’s sake.

“Your turn.”

“The only time I feel any sense of safety is when I know you’re nearby,” Sam said. “Like when we were younger, and I couldn’t sleep, and you’d come in and just shoot the shit until I felt safe enough. There’s all this monstrous stuff out there, and when I’m here—when I’m with you, I feel more capable of...”

“Facing it?”

“Living with it. Just knowing that I’ve got you in light of everything else...and maybe we shouldn’t have crossed that line—

“Maybe is a generous term.”

Sam laughed. “But Dean? I don’t care, either. What the fuck does it matter? Look at what we fight against. Look at what we know is out there? Why should this be so sick and twisted when I l—

Sam paused; Dean stared. Outside, a dog barked at a passing truck.

Would voicing it prove fatal to how far they’d come? Would Dean push him away, make him crawl back under those stained sheets alone?

Dean’s Adam’s apple bobbed.

Sam cast around in the dark for his errant courage. Once he caught it by the tail, he reeled it in with all his might.

“Too chicken?” Dean said with a chuckle. “Ah, Jesus. How messed up is it that it’s easier for you to take your big brother’s cock than it is to say—

Sam tackled Dean to the bed, rolled on top of him, and pinned his wrists above his head. His towel slipped from around his waist, but he didn’t care. This went beyond sex, beyond the need to satiate the growing need rising in his groin.

“I love you,” Sam said, taking great pains to make his voice as clear and even as possible. “Everything about you, even the things that piss me off. Because it’s you, Dean. Because you’re you, and not anyone else. There’s nobody else for me but you, in any way.” Nobody more beguiling or infuriating; nobody more arousing or endearing. Sam could use every gerund in the grammar book, and he still wouldn’t be able to find enough to describe what it truly was about Dean that filled his heart so full.

Dean let out a breath. Whatever lingering doubts and tensions he has eased away as he arched his neck to give Sam a soft kiss.

“I love you, too,” he said, eyes searching Sam’s face. Then he smiled, and his head hit the pillow. “What a thing to happen to us, huh? As if the rest of our lives haven’t been crazy enough, we go and get involved in some Flowers In the Attic shit.”

Sam grinned, and relinquished his grasp on Dean’s wrists. He drew the sheets over them both, and helped Dean out of his own towel.

“Jesus, Dean. Even I didn’t read that piece of garbage,” Sam said.

“Hey, I was twelve and wanted to put my library card to good use.”

“Special feelings?”

“Something like that.”

“I’m happy that you’ve at least read a book that wasn’t a double stacked issue of Penthouse.”

Dean rolled over, and pulled Sam to him.

“Screwed up?” He said into Sam’s hair.

“That we’re doing this, or that we’re having this meaningful conversation after you nutted in my ass?”

“Six of one, half a dozen of the other.”

Sam snuggled in close. That old sense of security wrapped him round once more.

“Royally screwed,” he said. “But that’s what sets us apart...aside from the gun collection in the trunk of the car and the amount of time we spend in places like this.”

Dean kissed him in the forehead.

“Places like this ain’t so bad,” he said softly. “Not so long as I have you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
